


Just the Right Bullets

by annie_reckson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drunken Kissing, First Kiss, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1371292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annie_reckson/pseuds/annie_reckson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John, Greg's best mate, is having a bit of a crisis: seems like everyone close to him is a psychopath. And now he's not really sure if he can trust anyone.</p><p>Well...there might be one person...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just the Right Bullets

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much how I want Season 4 to end

_From: John_

_Mate, mind if I come over?_

Greg blinked at his phone, it was already past ten in the evening. One of the few evenings Greg had that he could just relax and turn his brain off; he'd planned on just having a few glasses of scotch and watching whatever was on telly until he passed out in his armchair.

But John...John wouldn't ask unless it was important. Not on a Sunday evening when he surely had to work in the morning. Greg typed out an affirmative reply and went to retrieve another rocks glass from the cabinet.

Roughly twenty minutes later, Greg answered the loud knock on his door and let in a disheveled-looking John Watson. He looked like he hadn’t slept for days and paced the room impatiently before Greg ushered him into the other armchair. A deep breath came out of his lips when Greg handed him a glass of scotch before settling in his own chair.

“I’m so sorry to do this to you, mate. It’s just...” He swirled the dark liquid in his glass before taking a sip, “We signed the divorce papers today.”

Greg raised an eyebrow, “Oh really, so it’s all finalised then?”

“Yep.”

“Well I mean...it’s been final for a while now though, hadn’t it? Christ’s sake, you’ve been living on your own again for, what, three months now?”

“Umm, yeah yeah. It’s only been a matter of getting the paperwork together. ” He sighed, "How did you feel when your divorce finally went through?"

"Honestly? Relief. Overwhelming relief."

"Okay okay yeah. Good."

“If I can ask, why didn’t you just move back in with Sherlock again?”

John shook his head, “No. I just need to be around the two of them as little as possible right now. Just...after Magnussen, then that Moriarty...thing, and the baby...”

Greg leaned forward to rest his hand on the arm of John’s chair, “Don’t beat yourself up about that, you had no way of knowing.”

“I’M A DOCTOR, GREG.”

He shrank back, as if bitten.

John continued, “I’m sorry, it’s just...I’m a doctor, you know? I should have known. I should have known when I wasn’t noticing the physical signs early on. I should have done the ultrasound myself. I should have paid more attention.”

Greg sighed, “Nobody expects their wife or girlfriend to fake a pregnancy. You had no reason to even consider it.”

“I still....huh,” He sighed, took a sip, and started over, “For my own sanity, I just can’t be around either of them. At least not for right now.”

“I guess I understand Mary, but why Sherlock?”

John gave an angry chuckle, “Since you asked: if I’m around Mary, I now know she’s going to try to emotionally manipulate me. If I’m around Sherlock, I’ve known for a while that he tries to emotionally manipulate me. Do you realise how...gaslighted I felt from the two of them? Not to mention just seeing her reminds me that she has literally lied to me about almost every aspect of our relationship. And Sherlock...Sherlock lies to me whenever he sees it convenient. And if I moved back in with him, I can just assume that every cup of tea he brings me has some sort of chemical concoction in it that he’s using for an experiment.” He hurriedly drank the last bit of scotch in the glass.

Greg helpfully refilled his glass, “That’s rough, mate. I can’t say I envy you.”

“I mean, I know at some point Sherlock will want me to work cases with him and I’ll accept. A part of me will always want the thrill of running around London at three in the morning. That time just isn’t right now.”

“Understood, it’s been a rough three years for you. You’ve got to get yourself sorted out.”

“I just need to be around...real people. People that don’t hide things or constantly keep secrets from me...people like you, Greg.”

“Who, me?”

“Yeah, you! Ever since we’ve met, you’ve always just been you. I’ve never had to worry that you were spying on me, or lying to me, or secretly trying to murder everyone around me,” He chuckled darkly again, “You’ve always just been clever, silver-haired Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.”

Greg smiled, “You remember the first time we met?”

“Yeah it was the...pink lady case.”

“Yeah yeah, ‘A Study in Pink’, I think you called it.”

“Well, to be fair, there was a lot of pink going on.”

“Y’know, when I first saw you, I really didn’t think much of you. No offense meant.”

“Oh no worries, none taken. As long as you realise just how badass I am now, as I sit whining in your flat.”

Greg laughed, “You’re allowed a whine every now and then. But really, you look very unassuming in your button-ups and cardigans and jumpers. No one would ever think, from the look of you, that you’d be willing to shoot a murderous cabbie without hesitation.”

John shuddered, “Have you known all this time?”

“To borrow an expression: I’m a detective, John! And I’m a damn good one, despite what Sherlock thinks. It really wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

“So why didn’t you do anything then?”

Greg shrugged, “You saved Sherlock’s life. I wasn’t about to punish you for that. I’m glad I didn’t, you’re a great man, John.”

“I don’t feel like such a great man right now.”

Greg gave his shoulder a gentle shake, “Of course you don’t now, but this’ll all pass. I mean, I _am_ here for you if you need me.”

“Yeah, you always have been,” He rubbed his eyes, “Do you mind if I crash on your couch tonight? I’m just worn out, I don’t feel like dealing with a taxi or the Tube.”

“Of course you can, mate, finish your scotch and I’ll grab you some blankets.”

 

***

 

Greg waited until he’d left the Commissioner’s office and was safely back in his own before properly celebrating. There weren’t many good days, but today was a good day. Exceptionally good, as it happened. So good that he was aching to share the news with someone who wasn’t a coworker - they’d all given him gentle admonishments when he’d strolled down the hallway.

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to John - _Up for a drink later? Got some great news today, wanna celebrate_

A moment later, his phone buzzed back in reply, _Course mate, I’m finishing up here around six. What time’s good for you?_

Perfect. A nice pint with a good mate was just what he needed. He smiled and gave John a time before leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. He briefly considers texting his ex-wife and letting her know, but it’s unlikely she’d care that much. And it would be a bit weird, it had been awhile since they’d spoken. Disgruntled, he was just about to phone his mum when Sally knocked on his door and was waved in. It had been a long time since he’d seen such a big smile on her face.

“Well hello there, Detective Chief Inspector.”

Greg grinned, “Sounds good, dunnit?”

“Come on into the break-room, the other Sergeants and I picked up some donuts to celebrate. And Dimmock might have snuck some lager in, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Should I encourage such frivolity as a Detective Chief Inspector?”

“I think it’s your last day to encourage such frivolity.”

“Did they get some of the powdered donuts?”

“Hush, you know that I know they’re your favorite,” She pushed him out the doorway, “Now hurry!”

 

***

 

Thanks to Dimmock’s sneaky lager, Greg already had a bit of a buzz going when he met John at the pub. As luck would have it, he had the next day off, so his current plan was to get absolutely pissed. And with this being the end of John’s first official week as a divorced man, he figured John might be up for that as well. He was more than pleased to see John already seated at the bar once he got there.

And John looked...rather fit. He was in a button-up and cardigan - as per usual - but there was something about the shape of the button-up that accentuated how nice John’s chest actually was. And the color of the cardigan seemed to help bring out the deep blue in his eyes that was often overlooked. Greg shook his head, unable to fathom where those thoughts had come from.

John greeted him enthusiastically, “Oi! Greg, good to see you! What’s the big news, then?”

Greg gave him a sheepish smile, “You’re looking at the new Detective Chief Inspector.”

“Are you serious, mate?” John grabbed him in a fierce hug, “That’s fantastic news! Absolutely brilliant, it’s about time really.”

“Yeah and I uh...just really wanted someone to celebrate with, you know, besides the co-workers.”

“Ah well, I have to say that I’m flattered. And please let me buy you a round or two.”

“Now John, I can’t let you do that.”

“Of-fucking-course you can! It’s not every day the best guy I know gets a promotion! And with the way the Met is run, who knows when it’ll happen again. So let me treat you a bit tonight, yeah?”

“Well, you know I’ve never been able to turn down free lager.”

No, Greg had never been able to refuse someone buying him a drink. Not when a handsome older man had done it when he was a teenager. Not when the shy girl from science had handed him a beer under the bleachers one day after class. Not when a sweaty, muscular man had showed him how to properly do tequila shots. Not when a cute sorority girl, that would eventually become his now ex-wife, had insisted on buying him a round after he beat her in pool.

And not when a former army doctor kept ordering rounds and insisting on paying for them. Not when he was enjoying far too much the laughter and genuine smiles from one of the bravest men he knew. Not when this was the happiest Greg had seen him since his wedding day - a realisation he was smart enough not to bring up. Not when he found himself staring often at John’s lips when he was talking or when his tongue ran across them.

By the time they finally staggered out of the pub - precisely at closing time, as Greg was quick to point out, “The way the good Lord intended!” - they were leaning on each other and laughing heartily. Greg briefly contemplated getting a taxi, but it was a fairly short walk to John’s new flat. As he was to find out, far too short of a walk. Before he even realised it, they were standing in front of John’s door.

John sighed and smiled, “Well, this is me. Are you sure you’re okay to make it the rest of the way?”

“Oh yeah, of course. If I’m feeling off, I’ll call a taxi or something.”

“Alright, if you’re sure. Can’t have you arrested for public intoxication on your first day as a DCI.”

Greg crinkled his nose, “You’re right, that would probably set a bad precedent. I’ll be extra careful.”

“Well then...” John paused for a moment, “Congratulations again, by the way. I’m sincerely very happy for you.”

John caught him in a firm hug before Greg could react, but he quickly reciprocated. What started as a few simple pats turned into a clinging embrace that lasted several seconds longer than either had intended. When John finally pulled away, it was only mere inches, enough for him to get a good look at Greg’s face, it seemed.

Greg felt a not-unfamiliar tingle settle in his belly as his gaze flicked between John’s dark eyes and his parted lips, only getting worse when he realised that John was doing the same to him. In the end, it was Greg who closed the gap, mashing his mouth firmly against John’s smaller one. And suddenly their chests were pressed together again and hands were firmly rubbing up and down each other’s back. Needing more, Greg tilted his head for better access, gracelessly running the tip of his tongue along John’s bottom lip and tasting the remaining notes of bitter and citrus that lingered there. A gentle moan escaped from his throat and John chose that moment to push him away.

John’s eyes widened and he ran a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry Greg, I uh...”

Greg forced a laugh, “Sorry? Why on earth would you be sorry?”

“I just...I need to sleep. I...”

John ran inside before he could finish his sentence, leaving a very confused Greg standing on the sidewalk. After too many minutes standing there with his jaw hanging open, he finally let out an exasperated sigh and walked the rest of the way to his house. As he walked, he went back over the events, trying to figure out when he’d gone wrong.

When he stepped inside his flat and stripped down his boxer-briefs, he decided to go back over the events for a different reason. But this time, John didn’t pull away; this time John invited him up to his flat. This time, John showed Greg how he got his Three-Continents Watson nickname. Over and over, if need be.

Greg bit down on his hand to avoid crying out too loudly as he felt the endorphins crash over him. As soon as he could move his limbs again, he grabbed for tissues and cleaned himself up before curling into a ball and allowing himself to drift to sleep.

 

***

 

The knocking on his door was happening too fucking early in the morning for him to want to deal with. And it wasn’t stopping either. With a frustrated groan, Greg pulled himself out of bed and threw a dressing gown on before stomping to the door. A rude awakening like this usually meant Sally on the other side of the door because a triple homicide had happened while he was sleeping.

Instead, he opened the door to find John Watson standing self-consciously and holding a tray of coffee. It took his hungover brain a second to process the information, and another second to remind him that, by all accounts, he should have a few hurt feelings courtesy of this person.

John spoke first, “Look, I’m sorry about the way I acted last night. Not about what...happened...just how I reacted to it,” He chewed on his lip, “I brought you some coffee and a bagel, can I at least come in for a bit?”

Greg stepped aside to let him in, not quite sure how to react. It was still too early for his brain to make sense of all of it; John here, looking apologetic, and bearing gifts. He wrapped his dressing gown tighter and crossed his arms over it before following John to the kitchen table, where he was already pulling bagels and ramekins of cream cheese out of a paper bag.

Greg dropped into a chair, “Thank you umm...for bringing breakfast and I’m not trying to sound ungrateful but-”

“Why am I here so early?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

John smirked, “Couldn’t sleep, honestly. You know I almost ran after you last night?”

Greg’s eyebrows shot up, then furrowed, “You did?”

“Yeah, yeah I did. I just stood in my flat for about thirty minutes after you left and wrestled with myself over what would happen if I did and if it was worth it.”

“Worth it?”

John had a worried look on his face, “Let’s be real Greg, my life is...up in the air right now and you’re probably the most stable part of it. I had to think of whether or not I wanted to risk that. Or if it was just some...drunken need for comfort.”

Greg took a bite of his bagel and leaned back in his chair, “So, what did you decide?”

John flicked his eyes up at him, still a bit heavy-lidded with sleep, and smiled slyly. In one swift movement, he stepped to Greg’s side of the table, wiped a bit of cream cheese of the side of Greg’s mouth with his thumb, and licked it off.

Greg groaned but placed a hand on John’s chest, “You’re sure that you want this?”

John leaned as close to Greg’s face as he could, “If you want it, then I want it, too.”

“Yes.”

Both smiled before Greg pulled John close - close enough that he was forced to straddle atop Greg’s lap - and tugged on the back of John’s neck until their lips were pressed together again. This time the taste was different, bitter coffee and a lingering sweetness dominated Greg’s tastebuds as his tongue was given free reign to explore John’s mouth, occasionally tangling with John’s as his was given similar freedom.

Greg brushed his hands up John’s back, forcibly removing his shirt in a need for more skin contact, just as John was hurriedly pulling apart the folds of Greg’s dressing gown. A sharp spike of electricity coursed through Greg’s body when their nipples brushed against each other. His hands worked their way down John’s body until they grasped onto his firm arse, encouraging John to rut against him. The delicious noises coming from John’s throat only made Greg grow impossibly harder.

John hastily undid his jeans and dragged out his own cock before pulling down the waistband of Greg’s briefs and freeing his straining erection. He inhaled deeply and grasped both firmly, starting a quick motion that was boosted by the rhythm Greg had initiated and still continued. Greg broke the kiss when the sensations became too much, instead resting his head on John’s shoulder and panting heavily.

“John, you’re so good. You’re going to make me come all over you, would you like that?”

John gasped out a “Yes.”

“Urgghhh...I’m going to come all over you then lick you completely clean. Your come mixed with my come, your taste mixed with my taste. And I’m going to lick every bit of it off of you.”

John groaned and repeated Greg’s name over and over as his orgasm rushed through him, and hearing the way his name sounded coming from John’s mouth was enough to bring Greg over the edge. He forced his eyes shut and pressed his face further into John’s muscley shoulder as wave after wave crested over him.

When Greg was able to open his eyes again, John was breathing heavily and starting to move himself off of Greg. Before he was successful, Greg snatched ahold of his hand - the one that had just been wrapped around him - and licked the mess off of it. The startled gulp John gave him made Greg wish he was seventeen again with a decent refractory period. As gently as possible, he lowered the two of them to the floor.

Greg grinned as he hovered over him, “I made you a promise, didn’t I?”


End file.
